The Tempest, Act 2, Scene 1

Beseech you, sir, be merry; you have cause, So have we all, of joy; for our escape Is much beyond our loss. Our hint of woe Is common; every day, some sailor’s wife, The masters of some merchant and the merchant, Have just our theme of woe; but for the miracle, I mean our preservation, few in millions Can speak like us: then wisely, good sir, weigh Our sorrow with our comfort.

Please, sir, cheer up. You have reason to be glad, and so do all of us, because our escape far outweighs our loss. Our share of sorrow is nothing unusual: every day some sailor's wife, the officers of some merchant ship and the owner himself have exactly the same cause for grief as we do. But as for the miracle — I mean our survival — hardly anyone in millions can tell a story like ours. So, good sir, weigh our sorrow against our comfort sensibly.

Prithee, peace.

Please, be quiet.

He receives comfort like cold porridge.

He takes comfort the way he'd take cold porridge.

The visitor will not give him o’er so.

The sickbed visitor won't give him up that easily.

Look, he’s winding up the watch of his wit; by and by it will strike.

Look, he's winding up the clock of his cleverness; in a moment it will strike.

Sir,—

Sir—

One: tell.

One. Keep count.

When every grief is entertain’d that’s offer’d, Comes to the entertainer—

When a man welcomes in every grief that's offered him, what comes to the man who welcomes it is—

A dollar.

A dollar.

Dolour comes to him, indeed: you have spoken truer than you purposed.

Sorrow does come to him, indeed. You have spoken more truly than you intended.

You have taken it wiselier than I meant you should.

And you have taken it more cleverly than I meant you to.

Therefore, my lord,—

And so, my lord—

Fie, what a spendthrift is he of his tongue!

Good heavens, how freely he spends his tongue!

I prithee, spare.

Please, stop.

Well, I have done: but yet—

All right, I've finished. But still—

He will be talking.

He has to keep talking.

Which, of he or Adrian, for a good wager, first begins to crow?

Which of them, him or Adrian, will start crowing first? Let's have a decent bet on it.

The old cock.

The old rooster.

The cockerel.

The young one.

Done. The wager?

Agreed. What's the bet?

A laughter.

A laugh.

A match!

Done!

Though this island seem to be desert,—

Although this island seems to be a wasteland—

Ha, ha, ha!

Ha, ha, ha!

So. You’re paid.

There. You've been paid.

Uninhabitable, and almost inaccessible,—

—not fit to live in, and almost impossible to reach—

Yet—

Yet—

Yet—

Yet—

He could not miss ’t.

He couldn't have failed to say it.

It must needs be of subtle, tender, and delicate temperance.

—it must have a fine, mild and delicate climate.

Temperance was a delicate wench.

Temperance was a delicate girl.

Ay, and a subtle; as he most learnedly delivered.

Yes, and a crafty one, just as he so learnedly put it.

The air breathes upon us here most sweetly.

The air breathes on us here very sweetly.

As if it had lungs, and rotten ones.

As if it had lungs — and rotten ones.

Or, as ’twere perfum’d by a fen.

Or as if it had been perfumed by a swamp.

Here is everything advantageous to life.

Here is everything that's good for living.

True; save means to live.

True — except the means of staying alive.

Of that there’s none, or little.

Of that there's none, or very little.

How lush and lusty the grass looks! how green!

How thick and healthy the grass looks! How green it is!

The ground indeed is tawny.

The ground is actually yellowish-brown.

With an eye of green in’t.

With a tinge of green in it.

He misses not much.

He doesn't miss much.

No; he doth but mistake the truth totally.

No; he only gets the truth completely wrong.

But the rarity of it is,—which is indeed almost beyond credit,—

But the extraordinary thing about it is — and this really is almost unbelievable—

As many vouch’d rarities are.

As plenty of guaranteed marvels are.

That our garments, being, as they were, drenched in the sea, hold notwithstanding their freshness and glosses, being rather new-dyed than stained with salt water.

—that our clothes, soaked in the sea as they were, still keep their freshness and their shine; they look newly dyed rather than stained with salt water.

If but one of his pockets could speak, would it not say he lies?

If just one of his pockets could speak, wouldn't it say he's lying?

Ay, or very falsely pocket up his report.

Yes — or else pocket up his story like a dishonest man.

Methinks our garments are now as fresh as when we put them on first in Afric, at the marriage of the King’s fair daughter Claribel to the King of Tunis.

It seems to me our clothes are as fresh now as when we first put them on in Africa, at the wedding of the King's beautiful daughter Claribel to the King of Tunis.

’Twas a sweet marriage, and we prosper well in our return.

It was a lovely wedding, and our journey home is going splendidly.

Tunis was never graced before with such a paragon to their Queen.

Tunis was never honoured before with such a perfect woman for its Queen.

Not since widow Dido’s time.

Not since widow Dido's time.

Widow! a pox o’ that! How came that widow in? Widow Dido!

Widow! Damn that word! How did that widow get in? Widow Dido!

What if he had said, widower Aeneas too? Good Lord, how you take it!

What if he had said widower Aeneas as well? Good Lord, how worked up you get about it!

Widow Dido said you? You make me study of that; she was of Carthage, not of Tunis.

Widow Dido, did you say? That makes me think twice; she belonged to Carthage, not Tunis.

This Tunis, sir, was Carthage.

This Tunis, sir, used to be Carthage.

Carthage?

Carthage?

I assure you, Carthage.

I promise you, Carthage.

His word is more than the miraculous harp.

His word does more than that miraculous harp did.

He hath rais’d the wall, and houses too.

He has raised up the city wall, and the houses too.

What impossible matter will he make easy next?

What impossible thing will he make easy next?

I think he will carry this island home in his pocket, and give it his son for an apple.

I think he will carry this island home in his pocket and give it to his son as an apple.

And, sowing the kernels of it in the sea, bring forth more islands.

And, planting its seeds in the sea, produce more islands.

Ay.

Yes.

Why, in good time.

Well then, all in good time.

[To Alonso.] Sir, we were talking that our garments seem now as fresh as when we were at Tunis at the marriage of your daughter, who is now Queen.

[To Alonso.] Sir, we were saying that our clothes seem as fresh now as when we were at Tunis for the wedding of your daughter, who is now Queen.

And the rarest that e’er came there.

And the finest bride who ever came there.

Bate, I beseech you, widow Dido.

Make an exception, please, for the widow Dido.

O! widow Dido; ay, widow Dido.

Oh! Widow Dido; yes, widow Dido.

Is not, sir, my doublet as fresh as the first day I wore it? I mean, in a sort.

Sir, isn't my jacket as fresh as the first day I wore it? In a way, I mean.

That sort was well fish’d for.

That "way" was a well-cast line.

When I wore it at your daughter’s marriage?

When I wore it at your daughter's wedding?

You cram these words into mine ears against The stomach of my sense. Would I had never Married my daughter there! for, coming thence, My son is lost; and, in my rate, she too, Who is so far from Italy removed, I ne’er again shall see her. O thou mine heir Of Naples and of Milan, what strange fish Hath made his meal on thee?

You force these words into my ears when my mind has no appetite for them. I wish I had never married my daughter there! Because, coming back from there, my son is lost; and, by my reckoning, she is too, being removed so far from Italy that I shall never see her again. Oh, you my heir of Naples and of Milan, what strange fish has made a meal of you?

Sir, he may live: I saw him beat the surges under him, And ride upon their backs. He trod the water, Whose enmity he flung aside, and breasted The surge most swoln that met him. His bold head ’Bove the contentious waves he kept, and oared Himself with his good arms in lusty stroke To th’ shore, that o’er his wave-worn basis bowed, As stooping to relieve him. I not doubt He came alive to land.

Sir, he may be alive. I saw him beat the waves down beneath him and ride on their backs. He walked on the water, shoving aside its hostility, and pushed his chest against the highest wave that came at him. He held his bold head above the quarrelling waves and rowed himself with his strong arms in vigorous strokes towards the shore, which bent over its wave-worn base as if leaning down to help him. I have no fear that he reached land alive.

No, no, he’s gone.

No, no, he's gone.

Sir, you may thank yourself for this great loss, That would not bless our Europe with your daughter, But rather lose her to an African; Where she, at least, is banish’d from your eye, Who hath cause to wet the grief on ’t.

Sir, you can thank yourself for this great loss, since you would not bless our Europe with your daughter, but chose instead to lose her to an African; where she is at least banished from the sight of your eye, which has good reason to soak itself in grief over it.

Prithee, peace.

Please, be quiet.

You were kneel’d to, and importun’d otherwise By all of us; and the fair soul herself Weigh’d between loathness and obedience at Which end o’ th’ beam should bow. We have lost your son, I fear, for ever: Milan and Naples have More widows in them of this business’ making, Than we bring men to comfort them. The fault’s your own.

We all knelt to you and begged you to do otherwise; and the lovely girl herself was torn between disgust and obedience, wondering which end of the scales should tip. We have lost your son, I fear, for ever. Milan and Naples have more widows in them because of this business than we bring men home to console them. The fault is your own.

So is the dear’st o’ th’ loss.

And so is the most precious part of the loss.

My lord Sebastian, The truth you speak doth lack some gentleness And time to speak it in. You rub the sore, When you should bring the plaster.

My lord Sebastian, the truth you speak lacks some kindness, and a proper time to speak it in. You rub the sore when you should be putting on the bandage.

Very well.

Very good.

And most chirurgeonly.

And very much like a surgeon.

It is foul weather in us all, good sir, When you are cloudy.

It is bad weather in all of us, good sir, when you are gloomy.

Foul weather?

Bad weather?

Very foul.

Very bad.

Had I plantation of this isle, my lord,—

If I had the colonizing of this island, my lord—

He’d sow ’t with nettle-seed.

He'd sow it with nettle seed.

Or docks, or mallows.

Or weeds, or mallows.

And were the King on’t, what would I do?

And if I were the King of it, what would I do?

’Scape being drunk for want of wine.

Avoid getting drunk, for lack of wine.

I’ th’ commonwealth I would by contraries Execute all things; for no kind of traffic Would I admit; no name of magistrate; Letters should not be known; riches, poverty, And use of service, none; contract, succession, Bourn, bound of land, tilth, vineyard, none; No use of metal, corn, or wine, or oil; No occupation; all men idle, all; And women too, but innocent and pure; No sovereignty,—

In the state I would do everything the opposite way from usual; for I would allow no kind of trade; no office of judge; writing would be unknown; there would be no riches, no poverty, no employment of servants; no contracts, no inheritance, no boundaries or property lines, no farmland, no vineyard; no use of metal, grain, wine or oil; no work; all men idle, all of them; and the women too, but innocent and pure; no ruling power—

Yet he would be King on’t.

And yet he would be King of it.

The latter end of his commonwealth forgets the beginning.

The end of his state forgets how it began.

All things in common nature should produce Without sweat or endeavour; treason, felony, Sword, pike, knife, gun, or need of any engine, Would I not have; but nature should bring forth, Of it own kind, all foison, all abundance, To feed my innocent people.

Nature should produce everything for everyone in common, without sweat or effort. Treason, felony, sword, pike, knife, gun, or any need of machinery, I would not have; but nature should bring forth, of its own accord, all plenty, all abundance, to feed my innocent people.

No marrying ’mong his subjects?

No marriage among his subjects?

None, man; all idle; whores and knaves.

None, man; all idle; prostitutes and rogues.

I would with such perfection govern, sir, T’ excel the Golden Age.

I would govern with such perfection, sir, as to surpass the Golden Age.

Save his Majesty!

God save his Majesty!

Long live Gonzalo!

Long live Gonzalo!

And,—do you mark me, sir?

And—are you listening to me, sir?

Prithee, no more: thou dost talk nothing to me.

Please, no more: you are talking nonsense to me.

I do well believe your highness; and did it to minister occasion to these gentlemen, who are of such sensible and nimble lungs that they always use to laugh at nothing.

I quite believe your highness; and I did it to give these gentlemen an opening, since they have such sensitive and quick lungs that they are always in the habit of laughing at nothing.

’Twas you we laughed at.

It was you we were laughing at.

Who in this kind of merry fooling am nothing to you. So you may continue, and laugh at nothing still.

Who, in this sort of merry clowning, am nothing compared to you. So you may carry on, and go on laughing at nothing.

What a blow was there given!

What a hit that was!

An it had not fallen flat-long.

If only it hadn't landed with the flat of the blade.

You are gentlemen of brave mettle. You would lift the moon out of her sphere, if she would continue in it five weeks without changing.

You are gentlemen of splendid spirit. You would lift the moon out of her orbit if she would stay in it five weeks without changing.

We would so, and then go a-bat-fowling.

We would indeed, and then go hunting birds by night with a lantern.

Nay, good my lord, be not angry.

Come, my good lord, don't be angry.

No, I warrant you; I will not adventure my discretion so weakly. Will you laugh me asleep, for I am very heavy?

No, I promise you; I won't risk my good sense on such a feeble matter. Will you laugh me to sleep? I am very drowsy.

Go sleep, and hear us.

Go to sleep, and listen to us.

What, all so soon asleep! I wish mine eyes Would, with themselves, shut up my thoughts: I find They are inclin’d to do so.

What, all asleep so quickly! I wish my eyes would shut up my thoughts along with themselves: I find they are inclined to do so.

Please you, sir, Do not omit the heavy offer of it: It seldom visits sorrow; when it doth, It is a comforter.

If you please, sir, do not refuse sleep's drowsy offer. It rarely visits sorrow; when it does, it is a comfort.

We two, my lord, Will guard your person while you take your rest, And watch your safety.

We two, my lord, will guard your person while you rest, and keep watch over your safety.

Thank you. Wondrous heavy!

Thank you. Amazingly drowsy!

What a strange drowsiness possesses them!

What a strange sleepiness has taken hold of them!

It is the quality o’ th’ climate.

It is the effect of the climate.

Why Doth it not then our eyelids sink? I find not Myself dispos’d to sleep.

Then why doesn't it make our eyelids droop? I don't find myself inclined to sleep.

Nor I. My spirits are nimble. They fell together all, as by consent; They dropp’d, as by a thunder-stroke. What might, Worthy Sebastian? O, what might?—No more. And yet methinks I see it in thy face, What thou shouldst be. Th’ occasion speaks thee; and My strong imagination sees a crown Dropping upon thy head.

Nor do I. My spirits are lively. They all went down together, as if by agreement; they dropped as if struck by lightning. What might be done, worthy Sebastian? Oh, what might be done?—Say no more. And yet I think I see in your face what you ought to be. The opportunity is calling to you, and my strong imagination sees a crown dropping onto your head.

What, art thou waking?

What, are you awake?

Do you not hear me speak?

Don't you hear me speaking?

I do; and surely It is a sleepy language, and thou speak’st Out of thy sleep. What is it thou didst say? This is a strange repose, to be asleep With eyes wide open; standing, speaking, moving, And yet so fast asleep.

I do; and it's certainly the language of a sleeper, and you're talking in your sleep. What was it you said? This is a strange kind of rest, to be asleep with your eyes wide open: standing, talking, moving, and yet so deeply asleep.

Noble Sebastian, Thou let’st thy fortune sleep—die rather; wink’st Whiles thou art waking.

Noble Sebastian, you're letting your fortune sleep — die, rather; you keep your eyes shut while you're awake.

Thou dost snore distinctly: There’s meaning in thy snores.

You snore very clearly: there's sense in your snoring.

I am more serious than my custom; you Must be so too, if heed me; which to do Trebles thee o’er.

I'm being more serious than usual; you must be serious too, if you'll listen to me — and doing that makes you three times the man you are.

Well, I am standing water.

Well, I'm still water that doesn't move.

I’ll teach you how to flow.

I'll teach you how to flow.

Do so: to ebb, Hereditary sloth instructs me.

Do that — as for ebbing, the laziness I inherited teaches me that.

O, If you but knew how you the purpose cherish Whiles thus you mock it! how, in stripping it, You more invest it! Ebbing men indeed, Most often, do so near the bottom run By their own fear or sloth.

Oh, if you only knew how much you encourage the plan while you mock it like this! How, in stripping it bare, you dress it up all the more! Men who ebb away do indeed most often run so close to the bottom because of their own fear or laziness.

Prithee, say on: The setting of thine eye and cheek proclaim A matter from thee, and a birth, indeed Which throes thee much to yield.

Please, go on: the set of your eye and your cheek announce that you have something to say, something being born, in fact, that costs you great labour pains to deliver.

Thus, sir: Although this lord of weak remembrance, this Who shall be of as little memory When he is earth’d, hath here almost persuaded,— For he’s a spirit of persuasion, only Professes to persuade,—the King his son’s alive, ’Tis as impossible that he’s undrown’d As he that sleeps here swims.

It's like this, sir: although this lord with his feeble memory — this man who will be just as little remembered himself once he's buried — has almost convinced the King here, for he's a spirit of persuasion and claims skill in nothing but persuading, that his son is alive, it's as impossible that the son escaped drowning as it is that the man sleeping here is swimming.

I have no hope That he’s undrown’d.

I have no hope that he isn't drowned.

O, out of that “no hope” What great hope have you! No hope that way is Another way so high a hope, that even Ambition cannot pierce a wink beyond, But doubts discovery there. Will you grant with me That Ferdinand is drown’d?

Oh, out of that "no hope" what great hope you have! No hope in that direction is, in another direction, a hope so high that ambition can't see a hair's breadth beyond it, and fears to find anything there. Will you agree with me that Ferdinand is drowned?

He’s gone.

He's gone.

Then tell me, Who’s the next heir of Naples?

Then tell me, who is the next heir to Naples?

Claribel.

Claribel.

She that is Queen of Tunis; she that dwells Ten leagues beyond man’s life; she that from Naples Can have no note, unless the sun were post— The Man i’ th’ Moon’s too slow—till newborn chins Be rough and razorable; she that from whom We all were sea-swallow’d, though some cast again, And by that destiny, to perform an act Whereof what’s past is prologue, what to come In yours and my discharge.

She who is Queen of Tunis; she who lives ten leagues further off than a man could travel in a lifetime; she who can get no news from Naples unless the sun were the messenger — the Man in the Moon is too slow — until newborn babies' chins are rough enough to shave; she in coming from whom we were all swallowed by the sea, though some of us were thrown up again, and by that fate are meant to perform an act in which everything past is only the prologue, and what is to come is for you and me to carry out.

What stuff is this! How say you? ’Tis true, my brother’s daughter’s Queen of Tunis; So is she heir of Naples; ’twixt which regions There is some space.

What is all this talk! What do you mean? It's true, my brother's daughter is Queen of Tunis; and she's the heir of Naples; and between those two countries there's a certain distance.

A space whose ev’ry cubit Seems to cry out “How shall that Claribel Measure us back to Naples? Keep in Tunis, And let Sebastian wake.” Say this were death That now hath seiz’d them; why, they were no worse Than now they are. There be that can rule Naples As well as he that sleeps; lords that can prate As amply and unnecessarily As this Gonzalo. I myself could make A chough of as deep chat. O, that you bore The mind that I do! What a sleep were this For your advancement! Do you understand me?

A distance where every foot of it seems to cry out, "How is that Claribel going to pace us back to Naples? Let her stay in Tunis, and let Sebastian wake up." Suppose what has taken hold of them now were death; why, they'd be no worse off than they are now. There are people who can rule Naples as well as the man who's sleeping there; there are lords who can chatter as fully and as pointlessly as this Gonzalo. I could train a jackdaw to talk as profoundly. If only you had the mind that I have! What an opportunity this sleep would be for your advancement! Do you understand me?

Methinks I do.

I think I do.

And how does your content Tender your own good fortune?

And how does your pleasure respond to your own good luck?

I remember You did supplant your brother Prospero.

I remember that you pushed your brother Prospero out of his place.

True. And look how well my garments sit upon me; Much feater than before; my brother’s servants Were then my fellows; now they are my men.

True. And look how well my clothes fit me; much more neatly than before. My brother's servants were my equals then; now they're my men.

But, for your conscience.

But what about your conscience?

Ay, sir; where lies that? If ’twere a kibe, ’Twould put me to my slipper: but I feel not This deity in my bosom: twenty consciences That stand ’twixt me and Milan, candied be they And melt ere they molest! Here lies your brother, No better than the earth he lies upon, If he were that which now he’s like, that’s dead; Whom I, with this obedient steel, three inches of it, Can lay to bed for ever; whiles you, doing thus, To the perpetual wink for aye might put This ancient morsel, this Sir Prudence, who Should not upbraid our course. For all the rest, They’ll take suggestion as a cat laps milk. They’ll tell the clock to any business that We say befits the hour.

Yes, sir; where is that? If it were a chilblain on my heel, it would force me into slippers; but I feel no such god in my chest. Twenty consciences standing between me and Milan — let them be crusted with sugar and melt away before they trouble me! Here lies your brother, no better than the earth he's lying on, if he were what he now looks like, that is, dead; and I, with this obedient blade, three inches of it, can put him to bed for ever; while you, doing the same, could close this stale scrap of a man, this Sir Prudence, in sleep for ever, so he couldn't scold us for what we do. As for all the others, they'll swallow any hint the way a cat laps milk. They'll strike the hour for any business we say the time calls for.

Thy case, dear friend, Shall be my precedent: as thou got’st Milan, I’ll come by Naples. Draw thy sword: one stroke Shall free thee from the tribute which thou payest, And I the King shall love thee.

Your case, dear friend, will be my model: as you got Milan, I'll get Naples. Draw your sword: one blow will free you from the tribute you pay, and I, once king, will love you for it.

Draw together, And when I rear my hand, do you the like, To fall it on Gonzalo.

Let's draw together, and when I raise my hand, you do the same, and bring it down on Gonzalo.

O, but one word.

Oh, just one word.

My master through his art foresees the danger That you, his friend, are in; and sends me forth— For else his project dies—to keep them living.

My master, through his magic, foresees the danger that you, his friend, are in, and sends me out — because otherwise his plan collapses — to keep them alive.

While you here do snoring lie, Open-ey’d conspiracy His time doth take. If of life you keep a care, Shake off slumber, and beware. Awake! awake!

While you lie here snoring, wide-awake conspiracy is seizing its moment. If you care about your life, shake off sleep and watch out. Wake up! Wake up!

Then let us both be sudden.

Then let's both be quick about it.

Now, good angels Preserve the King!

Now, may good angels protect the King!

Why, how now! Ho, awake! Why are you drawn? Wherefore this ghastly looking?

What's going on! Hey, wake up! Why are your swords drawn? Why do you look so horrified?

What’s the matter?

What's the matter?

Whiles we stood here securing your repose, Even now, we heard a hollow burst of bellowing Like bulls, or rather lions; did ’t not wake you? It struck mine ear most terribly.

While we stood here guarding your sleep, just now, we heard a hollow burst of bellowing like bulls, or rather lions; didn't it wake you? It hit my ear terrifyingly.

I heard nothing.

I heard nothing.

O! ’twas a din to fright a monster’s ear, To make an earthquake. Sure, it was the roar Of a whole herd of lions.

Oh! it was a noise to frighten a monster's ear, to cause an earthquake. Surely it was the roaring of a whole herd of lions.

Heard you this, Gonzalo?

Did you hear this, Gonzalo?

Upon mine honour, sir, I heard a humming, And that a strange one too, which did awake me. I shak’d you, sir, and cried; as mine eyes open’d, I saw their weapons drawn:—there was a noise, That’s verily. ’Tis best we stand upon our guard, Or that we quit this place: let’s draw our weapons.

On my honour, sir, I heard a humming, and a strange one too, which woke me up. I shook you, sir, and shouted; as my eyes opened, I saw their weapons drawn. There was a noise, that's certain. We'd better stand on guard, or else leave this place. Let's draw our weapons.

Lead off this ground, and let’s make further search For my poor son.

Lead us off this ground, and let's search further for my poor son.

Heavens keep him from these beasts! For he is, sure, i’ th’ island.

May heaven keep him safe from these beasts! For he is certainly on the island.

Lead away.

Lead the way.

Prospero my lord shall know what I have done: So, King, go safely on to seek thy son.

Prospero my lord will learn what I have done. So, King, go on safely to look for your son.